*
when my words
surfacing out of
poetry define
who am I
I cry
I also
rejoice and
stand still as
if suspended
all at the same
exact
time holding
that tiny particle
of truth inside me
that shining in spite
of me
.
.
Aug4
Jul28
Seasons
*
I end up at times
visiting old friends
dinners stretching
.
over time feeding
our souls
the privilege
.
of recalling
the spirit’s
visitations
.
our hearts
a candle burning
quietly
.
steadily shaking
in the evening
breeze leaves
.
we are made to fall
and to die
full of colors
.
when it’s season
.
.
“Not Rosaries Nor Missals” is a collections of poems started on July 2013. This poem comes from that collection.
l
Jul21
Everlasting
*
life as a bird
an egg in a nest
in unexpected
places hidden
cared for and guarded
with parental
love cracking to
the first light revelation
being fed and
taught to sing
before I could fly out
into everlasting
.
.
.
Jul14
Air
*
I don’t think
heaven is upward
.
I don’t think
God is in the sky
but I think
God is in the air
.
when I look
up to the clouds
I fell God is
there up around
.
inside and
everywhere
God is like air
.
. 
.
Jul12
Come muore un cane
Sunday’s posts are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
come muore un cane
rannicchiato sempre
più stretto tra lunghi sonni
camminando a malapena
su due gambe quelle davanti
tremando quando mangia
sempre più stanco sempre
più piccolo che quasi
lo puoi prendere in braccio
dolcemente ti cerca
con gli occhi per un bacio
in più e la tua fronte sul suo naso
e per quell’attimo fermo silenzioso
prima dei miei complimenti
che incartano il magone
quella certezza che ogni
giorno insieme sia un dono
quel suo muoversi poco
sempre meno anche per
raggiungere il sole che scalda
le ossa storte doloranti
quel sospirare a fondo
quando racconta al gatto
qualcosa mentre lo segue
con gli occhi io cerco lui
e lo osservo immobile
per scovare il prossimo
respiro nella cassa toracica
ben delineata dalla magrezza
in mezzo a questa dolcezza
tra sorrisi mesti e lacrime
trattenute dentro come i fiori
che si chiudono la sera
come muore un cane
di vecchiaia
.
.
.
Ho scritto questa poesia a Giugno e la mia cagnolina fedele è morta l’11 Luglio 2020, ieri, dentro un corpo vecchio ma mi ha voluto, fino al suo ultimo respiro vicino a lei, tra carezze e sussurri e quello stupore immobile finale.
.
Jul7
Light
*
approaching the day
with dancing
thoughts
to linger in god’s
presence
light
that stays with me
at night
and in my slumber
.
.
.
This poem is part of the published collection California Notebooks 02
.
.
Jul1
Rhythm
*
as the day ends
I take a last walk
around my own
house stepping
on the garden
grass eyes up
to the clouds
sailing slowly
sending me
the rhythm
I had lacked
.
.
Jun23
Removed
*
under or above
removed from usual
grounds from valleys
to enter quieter realms
stillness and marvel
to be marginal
observing whether
with fish or birds
a new silence
lingering in
eternity
This poem is part of the collection Crossing Riviera.
By the way, in case you wish to give me some feedback based on your experience or instruction, this new Blocks Editor DRIVES ME CRAZY!!! Not sure it works for poems… even the Schedule seems more lengthy and complicated and, sorry for the past few weeks, missing the usual posting time and dates – I was experimenting with the Block Editor! Arrgh…
Jun16
One More Query
*
while we artists
on earth spend days
hardly making
a living as we struggle
to find the right
hues the precise color
to define a day
to portray time tell me
my dear where
you now indulge beauty
where time is
no more what color is
the forever
.
⁃ To Michelle Pelletier –
.
.
Jun8
Superlatives
*
the wildest
is at the bottom
of peace
.
the loneliest
is found among
a crowd
.
the kindest
is yourself forgiving
after rage
.
.
.
Poem from the collection Silente
.
Last week no poems were ever published due to the gravity of George Floyd’s killing and in observance and solidarity of Black Out Tuesday and Black Lives Matter.
May27
Reflection
*
the rain drops left behind
dancing
.
on grass and flowers reflect
undoubtedly
.
the world they came from
above
.
the brightest light to
come
.
.
.
May20
Solitude Serves Me Well
*
before is the bird’s
song and the occasional
car passing by
then the refrigerator
freezing while shaking
the hot water boiler
or an airplane
far away the mailman
comes dropping
volumes of papers
we need to lift glance
at a minute then dispose
that’s how days roll
away how solitude
serves me well
.
.
.
This poem is from the California Notebook collection, available in paper book and digital format.
May13
The Look My Soul Has
*
in between loving cats
and feeding elders
roaming paths
it was the caressing
with my eyes of the olive
trees barks twisted by
the winds and the lack
of water – is that the look
my soul has – she had no
idea life was business
to attend same the church
and the cats and the elderly
.
.
This poem is part of the collection Not Rosaries Nor Missals.
–
May6
They
*
they panic no one
around the streets
.
no one in their cars
no noise nor pollution
.
they keep the tv loud
letting anger lash out
.
or let despair cover
their trapped bodies
.
they weep the chance
they resist they curse
.
.
.
May3
Anni fa…
*
Incontro un piccolo cane,
frenetico, affamato.
.
Si affonda nella spazzatura.
.
Disperazione, tenerezza,
pianto, le nostre miserie,
.
che lui incorpora ingoiando
immondizia, impudico.
.
Lui senza vergogna.
.
.
Inedita, Italy, 2011.
